


Day Seventeen: Spooning (AKA "I've Had a Bad Day Again")

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [17]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Bad day all around, Disregarding warning labels, M/M, Spooning, Using medication in a not-good way, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond had a bad day, Q has a bad day, and then there's teleshopping and a couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Seventeen: Spooning (AKA "I've Had a Bad Day Again")

“This is a mess, a giant mess.” Q wanted nothing more than to stab things. He poked at a few more keys, only to have the tower make noises at him, noises he did not like to hear out of a computer. “You are a mess, darling, and I’m trying to fix you, but you are being very stubborn.” He pulled a utility drawer open and grabbed his toolkit and soldering iron. The iron was battery-operated, so all he had to do was flick a little button on the side, and it started to heat right up. He smiled down at it, and had a mini-fantasy in his mind about it being a sonic screwdriver and he was the Doctor...

“I am a mess, aren’t I?”

Q’s hands skittered across the worktop, scattering wires and transformers and chips across the Formica. After his minor heart attack, he turned to find James standing behind him, looking a bit... _crispy_. Q winced. The tip of the agent's left ear, along one cheekbone, and the jaw on the same side were very red and sore looking, and he sported a new haircut. He was holding himself stiff along his right side, his arm angled out just a hair, just enough to accommodate dressings. Q refused to let the sight bother him. Bond was here, after all, and not in a watery grave or dead in a desert somewhere - “I take it Bosnia wasn’t fun?”

“Oh, it was fun enough.” Bond smirked. “The timing pencils for the explosives went bad, so I had to improvise.” He cocked his head in concession, wincing a little as he did. “ _That_ part wasn’t as fun. But it still worked I also got those memory sticks back.” He tossed the little things, five in all, onto the worktop, and Q sighed in relief. “Home Office needs to stop losing shit like this.”

“It keeps us in work, doesn't it? Splendid work, 007.” Q reached over and gathered the sticks up. “I was half afraid I’d accidentally sent you to Pern or something, with you looking all medium rare and all.”

James looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Oh. Okay. I get that reference. I’m burned a bit, and Pern has dragons. Yes. Alright.” He moved forward and pointed at the angrily humming computer tower. “That thing isn’t going to blow up, is it? Rather not add 'shrapnel' to my list of problems if I can help it.”

Q hummed as he pulled his work laptop over to him. “Hmm? Oh, possibly. Not sure. It could. It’s angry, and stubborn, and I can’t seem to get it to respond to prompts, so I might have to do surgery.” He powered up his slim computer and fiddled with the side panel of the faulty tower at the same time, reaching up to unplug it from the overhead powerstrip almost as an afterthought. “It’s more of a pet project of mine, to fix things that someone breaks. Stress relief. This one, though...” He tapped at the metal housing, prying the side panel loose from the screws, “this one is being a brat. I should just scrap it and retrieve the data off the hard drive, but I’m certain it’s a mechanical issue, and that I can just swap parts out and fix. If it were software, it would be a bit harder...oh, look at _you_!” He paused in his monologue to peer into the housing. “You really could use a cleaning! Not to mention a tune up, how old are half of these components, anyway? Oh, no wonder you don’t want to run anymore, you poor thing...” He stuck his screwdriver in his mouth and stuck his hands into the tower.

 

 

 

James watched idly, perfectly content to not move and to just watch Q work his magic. The younger man fell completely into his work, muttering and cursing, accidentally stabbing himself with a needle implement he’d been using to scrape some caked dust  away from something important and flapping away about that, then sticking his nose right back into the mess of parts that James had no idea about. Alec was always better with computers, he was better with weapons. The agent took a annoyingly painful breath and thought about the probabilities of getting his hands on something stronger than the codeine Medical gave him earlier. He rolled his right shoulder despite the pull of the bandages and winced as a tendril of pain shot up his neck. _Much stronger_. He must have made a noise, or thought too hard, or breathed just right because all of a sudden Q’s cold hands were on him, pressing lightly and smoothing against his reserve white button-up that he kept in his locker. “I’m” - grunt - “fine.”

“No, actually, you are not. And I’m not going to have you tipping over from exhaustion in the workshop.” Q ran his hand over the uninjured side of Bond’s face. “Tell me they told you to stay away from alcohol.”

James dipped his head. “They did.”

“And are we going to listen to that edict?"

He hoped his expression conveyed his minor irritation to Q. Judging by the huff of minty breath - hiding the undertones of a secret cigarette he most likely had with Eve or Bill - and a dry brush of lips over his, it had.

Then James had to stop and rewind to what happened. _Q just kissed me. At work. With people around_. James turned his head as far as the healing burns would let him, and saw that a couple people had noticed and were tittering away at each other. He turned back to the hacker extraordinaire. “Was that wise?”

“What, asking about alcohol consumption or kissing you in the workshop?” Q waved off both. “Not a big deal.” He stretched, and James hid the winces as each of the man’s joints seemed to pop in order, from his wrists down to his knees. “Oooooh, that felt grand. Alright, then?”

“Sorry?” James stood a bit straighter, not understanding. 

“Are you ready to go?”

“I didn’t say anything about going anywhere.”

“But you are here, waiting for me to finish my work. If you didn’t want me along, you would have left by now, if only to get away from doing more paperwork and drink until dawn or you fell asleep.” Q rolled his wrists, setting off cracks that James could fucking _feel_. “Whichever came first. I’ll ask once more, and then I’ll just let you follow me home. Are you ready to go?”

James thought for a moment, wondering if this was dating was supposed to be like. Expectations. Reading what the other wants. Meeting those expectations. And that just sent him into another round of _why am I doing this, again?_ and he missed the amused headshake and the small tug at his cuff.

“Come on, you bull-headed idiot. I’ve been here for two days dealing with things you most likely wouldn’t understand, and I’m tired. I think I deserve to go home early today.”

********   
  
  
  


Q, of course, got waylaid by an impromptu emergency meeting by Bill Tanner (“Go on home, 007, you are on medical leave as of today, and we won’t be needing you for this.” Q’d looked at him with an apology in his eyes as he spoke into his phone, and a promise that he would let Bond know all the details if they are important. _He’d better. They are always important_.), so James ended up going home alone anyway, back to his flat. He hung up his grey overcoat and tossed his keys into the change bowl, taking in the stray memory stick attached to a single keyfob and a key. A note was attached to the bowl, and he ripped it off.

 

_**Hey, here’s something you or he might find useful. I’m on my way to Beirut right now, not important, just random things that need to be fixed. Memory stick has things on it, not sure what they are. I just found it. Gives you something to do while you are stuck in London.** _

_**\- Alec** _

__

_Well, I’ll be damned._ Bond smiled and crossed the sitting room to the kitchen, pulling off his jacket and tugging the hem of his shirt out of his belt. _Alec loves me._ He smirked as he reached into the upper cupboards for his scotch and a really nice glass. Tonight seemed to call for it. He kicked off his shoes and settled himself onto his couch, reaching for the remote to turn the telly on and cursing as one of the bandages pulled away from his back. “Stupid fucking...ah, the hell with it.” He snatched up the remote and sat back. Next on the agenda: glass of scotch. He left the television on the channel it was on and poured himself a glass, then rummaged around in his hip pocket for the bottle of pills, shaking two out and popping them into his mouth. He swallowed them dry, then chased the bitter taste with the scotch, draining the whole glass. _Ah. Much better_. He glanced up at some stupid document...ary...

He squinted, then laughed. Military documentary about Afghanistan. “Looks like this is what I’m watching tonight.” He settled into the cushions and let his body slowly relax, one muscle at a time, focusing on the television and not the dark memories swirling around his head.

********   
  
  
  


_Oh shit._  He blinked awake to the sound of his door swinging open, very quietly, a long shadow cast by the figure in the doorway and the sound of a bag sliding against the frame - a heavy bag. _WeapongunexplosivesassassinkillerinhisflatFUCK!_ His instincts lit up in his brain as his hand went straight for the gun still holstered at the small of his back -

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, damn it.” Q’s soft voice drifted through the air, irritated and tired and sounding rather done with things in general. “Stop that, stop being a cunt and let me in.”

James eased up his hand and tried to relax again, unseen by Q. The hacker finally trundled a backpack and a messenger bag and a bag full of take out through the door. James pushed to his feet, not really feeling any pain now that his brain was in overdrive, and wandered over.

“Hey. Q. I’ll help with that. Just sit down or something.”

Q looked up, temporarily startled by his presence, then one side of his mouth turned up in what had to be the most tired smile James had ever seen. “Thank you.” He shook his head as if to clear some cobwebs, and kicked the backpack into the corner by the hatrack. “I’m temporarily kicked out of my flat.”

The apparent non-sequitur caught James off guard in his medical fog, but then he understood. “What? Kicked out of your flat? Why?”

“Oh, a fire in one of the lower flats, not a problem, just frustrating and certainly not something one wants to come home to. No, the problem was the world trying to come to an end tonight because I wanted to get home early for once in my miserable adult life. On top of running that little op with our always pleasant friend 009 - “ James groaned in sympathy at that “- I had to actually bomb the Internet to keep three determined hackers from getting into our database, and me with barely any backup because like a dumbarse I sent everyone home, then I had to fix it back up again before someone noticed we were completely blind. I have a raging headache, and had a bloody nose on the way to the all night Chinese take out place. So of course Mrs. Ming freaked out on me and insisted on cleaning me up, bless her soul. But at least we got free food out of it.” He stared at the television. “And I am rambling again. What in the hell are you watching?”

James turned his head back over to what looked like...”I’m apparently shopping for a handbag.” He smirked. “Do you think I should get the leopard print or the teal blue?” He took the take out bag and set it on the coffee table, then went to the kitchen, dragging Q’s bag with him so he could sort out whatever he’d put in there, and possibly wash it for him. The whole thing smelled like wood and plastic smoke.

“I think hot pink would fit your style a bit better. Flamboyance is in, you know.” Q pulled off his shoes and shuffled over to the couch. “Is there still beer in the fridge?” He almost sat down, but then turned sharply. “Jesus, I’m a fucking idiot. You’re injured, sit down, stop futzing around with my knapsack, oh, _God_ , I’m a utter prick!” He rushed over to try to steer James away from his job. “Sit.”

Now that he was fully awake, not the wild half-there alertness he'd had before, he noticed the time, and groaned again. _And you still want to do things for me? Yeah, you’re an idiot, alright._ “It’s bloody five a.m., Q. I slept since I got home, which was probably around twelve hours ago. Passed clean out. I’m fine.” And he was, though the pain was nudging at the back of his mind. “You, on the other hand, just had a fuck-all day -  no, three days, practically. Sit down before you fall down. Take one of my pills” He snagged a beer, pushing it into Q’s hands. “Pass out. Eat. Buy a purse for me. I don’t care. Just go over there and be a vegetable for a bit.”

“They’ve moved on to necklaces.”

“Get me a diamond one, with big sparkly sapphires. I only wear the best.” Bond moved back to the bag and dragged wrinkled clothes and a pair of Converse out of it, dumping it all on the dining table, then walked to the sink and grabbed a fistful of silverware out of the strainer.

“James!” Q glared at the stubborn man, but sighed when James shoved a fork into his hand and pointed at the couch. “Fine.” He flopped down on the couch and scowled at the television. “Emeralds. The emphasis for tonight is emeralds.”

“Matches your eyes.” James came over and sat next to the hacker.

“I’ll buy you an emerald tennis bracelet. We will be the talk of the office block.” Q swallowed some more rice and General Tso’s chicken, then pushed the container away. “Ugh, done. So done. I want to be done with this fucking day.”

“Did you take the pill yet?”

“No.”

James shook out a pill, and blinked at it. “Scale of your headache, one to kill me now.”

“Uh, fuck my life?”

“Whole pill it is. Open up.” Q did, and James popped the pill in, then pressed his lips against Q’s jaw, mouthing a little bit at the corner just under his ear. Gently. “Good. Now, down that beer, take a shot of scotch, and lay down.” He gathered up the take out boxes and pushed them into the fridge, then sat down next to Q. “The couch is big enough. Lay down.”

Q sighed. “Alright.” He picked up the bottle and took a drink, then another, and James smirked. “Yeah, you are as fucked up as me.”

“I disregard warning labels with startling regularity.” He let James tip down first, then curled his body to fit with the agent’s. “Makes life a little more fun that way.”

“Do you take a toaster into the tub with you?”

Q smiled and turned his head up to peck Bond on the jaw. “No, but I have been known to poke at electrical things without unplugging them first.”

James huffed, and reached for the scotch. “No wonder your hair looks the way it does.”

“I thought you were going to make a comment about my twitchiness.”

“We all know that’s because instead of oxygen, your body consumes caffeine.”

Q hummed in amusement. “Pro’ly right.”

Bond finished his dose, and closed his eyes, listening to the young man snugged up against his front as he fell into a drugged, hopefully restful sleep. He blinked at the shopping show again and turned the volume down low, then tossed the remote to the floor. “I think I’d rather have the grey bag, actually.”

“Mmmm-no, th’ pink. ‘S good f’ you.”

“Ssh.” James smoothed down Q’s bangs, and kissed his hair. “Rest.”

 


End file.
